


Physical therapy

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [192]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 20:09:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14143608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPGCitadel.





	Physical therapy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

"Okay, try this one," Ryan says, ducking into the living room from the kitchen and shoving a tall glass full of milky green sludge at his lover. "I left out the kale this time and added raspberries, plus it's got some creatinine powder in there to help rebuild your muscles." He steps back and chews on his bottom lip while he anxiously waits for Sam to take a sip.

Sam regards the glass with more than a little suspicion. The last one tasted like... leaves or something, and this one doesn't look much better. "If you left the kale out, why's it green?" he asks, mostly just stalling.

"That's just the spinach," Ryan explains, then hastens to add, "it's got fiber and anti-oxidants and... it's really mild, anyway. You won't even taste it, I swear."

Sam sniffs the mixture. Spinach? Fuck. "You gonna stand there while I drink it?" he asks, wondering if Ryan would notice if he dumped it in the plant beside the couch. 

Ryan shrugs lightly. "I want to see if you like it." It's only, like, his fourth attempt at a custom protein smoothie that Sam might actually drink.

But Sam's still staring at the glass. "What else is in it?"

Another shrug. "Banana, strawberries, pineapple, a little honey, and some mint. I left out the raw egg this time."

Thank god for that. Sam exhales softly, considers plugging his nose and then just gives in and takes a sip, swallowing it as quickly as he can. But actually... he takes another sip, frowning even more at the glass. "This one's not too bad," he murmurs.

Ryan's answering smile could illuminate a stormy day. "Great!" He sits down on the sofa next to his lover. "Put your legs across my lap so I can see how your wound is healing."

Sam complies, having resigned himself to letting Ryan play nurse to his invalid self these past few days.

"Your stitches look good," Ryan murmurs, inspecting them closely. "The skin is knitting like it's supposed to, and you don't have any signs of infection. Does it hurt when I touch you here?" he asks, gently massaging Sam's thigh, careful not to touch him anywhere near his injury.

"No." Sam shakes his head. "It kind of aches but it doesn't really hurt."

"All right, good." Ryan slowly - carefully - massages Sam's quadriceps, gently working on the muscle but avoiding the wounded skin. "We should get you up again today. I've worked out some physical therapy exercise that'll start getting you strong again, but shouldn't be so difficult that they land you back on the couch."

"Can't I just rest it or go for a walk?" Sam asks.

"Those are both good ideas," Ryan agrees with a nod, but there's no way in hell that he's letting Sam get off so easy. "But we need to start building your muscle mass back up. You worked so hard to get cut for this movie, you don't want to lose all that new definition."

"But that's not gonna happen in four days," Sam protests. Christ. About the only good thing in getting hurt was he thought it would translate into some actual days _off_. A sort of forced vacation.

"No, muscle is very temporary," Ryan argues knowledgeably. He shifts to begin massaging Sam's bare foot. "It starts to break down and turn weak within 36 hours of not using it. So we won't let that happen."

Sam groans and lets his head flop back against the couch. "Fine." Fuck.

"Don't pout," Ryan admonishes. "Finish your smoothie, and we'll get going. It's a gorgeous day out, so we'll stretch and then we can take an easy jog around the lake."

The lake's fucking huge. "Jog?" Sam just stares at Ryan.

"Yeah." Shrugging, Ryan looks up at his lover, wondering what the objection can possibly be. "A nice easy pace. It's beautiful out," he assures Sam again.

"And the lake's fucking huge," Sam says, taking another drink of his smoothie. Which he's actually starting to like. "I don't know if I want to get that far from the house. What if it really starts hurting? Are you gonna carry me back?"

"You're stronger than you think you are, love," Ryan replies, and gently eases Sam's legs off his lap so he can lean in and give his sir a kiss. "And anyway, the jog will leave you good and limber for the resistance exercises you're going to do this afternoon."

"No fucking way," Sam blurts out, frowning at Ryan. "If we go for the jog, I'm done for the day."

Ryan's eyebrows snap down, and he frowns at Sam in turn. He's far more baffled than he is angry, though. "Sam, you're still in the middle of the shoot," he points out quietly. "You don't want to get soft now. It's a few more weeks before you can rest."

"It's only four days," Sam counters again, setting his empty glass on the table beside him. "And I've already shot my nude scenes."

"Yeah, but--" Distracted in an instant, Ryan narrows his eyes at his lover. "You didn't tell me there were nude scenes in this one."

"I thought you read the script," Sam says. "There's the one with Susan, the one with the prostitute and the one in the shower."

"Well yeah, I did read it, but I thought..." Ryan trails off, and god he can feel himself pouting. "I didn't realize you were actually going to be filming any of those scenes _naked_ ," he says. "I thought just, you know, that you'd be wearing underwear and they just wouldn't show it." He chews on his bottom lip. "Were the Susan and prostitute actresses naked, too?" It's something he hates to ask. But Sam has definitely diverted him from his insistence on running around the lake today.

"Yeah, of course," Sam says, watching Ryan. "I figured you knew that."

 _Fuck_. "Maybe... maybe next time you could let me know when you're filming a scene like that, and I could come watch," Ryan suggests in a very small voice. "I mean, because I know it's supposed to actually be the farthest thing from sexy, with all the cameras and the sound boom and everything. The best boy." Ryan has always wondered about that term. "Anyway, if I could see how sexy it's _not_..."

"Yeah, of course," Sam says again, placing a hand on Ryan's knee. "You know it doesn't do anything for me, right? I'm not thinking about fucking any of these women or anyone else on set. Not when I have you."

"Really?" It sounds nice, but... Okay, Ryan has his doubts on that part. "You don't have to say that if it's not true. I'd understand. I mean, if _I_ were pretend making-out with a beautiful woman, I'm pretty sure I'd be thinking about fucking her. Not that I'd like the idea," he adds, trying to explain. "I just don't see how you can get all naked and rub up against another person and _not_ be thinking about sex the whole time."

"Because it's so removed from sex, it isn't even funny," Sam says. "Seriously. It's just awkward and everyone's watching-- It's like this fucked up idea people have that masochists get off on all pain. It needs to be sexualized. You're not getting off at the dentist and I'm sure as hell not getting off under a billion lights with everyone taking fucking bets on whether I'll get hard. Christ. And besides all that," he adds, sitting forward a little more. "It's not that I'm not attracted to anyone else anymore, but why would I screw around with the unknown - and to be honest, the usually pretty fucking boring - when I have you at home and I _know_ I can torment you in all sorts of ways." He grins.

Ryan smiles a little. "Why go out for hamburger when you've got prime rib waiting at home?" he murmurs, although he likes the individual spin Sam has put on it. He shrugs. "You know, we can probably figure out some other way to help you stay fit."

"Yeah?" Sam likes the sound of that.

Ryan leans in and unzips Sam's jeans. "Yeah."

Sam's tempted to make some smart-assed remark about how this probably doesn't count as a real workout but given how things are going his way right now... yeah. He'll just sit on that. "Kiss me," he says instead.

Looking up at Sam from beneath his eyelashes, Ryan licks out at the head of his lover's cock. "Here?"

Mm. Fuck. Sam shakes his head and touches his lips. "Here first."

Making his way higher with a little smirk - that somehow avoids smugness - Ryan brushes his lips softly over Sam's. And then again.

Sam cups the back of Ryan's neck and deepens the kiss, their tongues tangling before he finally eases back. "Love you," he murmurs.

"I love you, Sir," Ryan whispers. He reaches up to trail his fingers lightly along the column of Sam's throat. "How can your boy serve you?"

"You can give me your mouth and then you can get up here and ride me." It's been days since they've actually fucked. Christ. Which hasn't stopped them otherwise, but still...

"Ohgodyes," Ryan sighs, the words coming out all mumbled. Sam fingered him last night, but - short of Sam's whole fist - it's nowhere near enough for Ryan anymore. "Need your cock, Sir," he breathes, slipping to the floor between Sam's thighs. He closes his lips around the crown and sucks eagerly, rubbing his tongue in the slit and moaning softly at his lover's flavor before he takes him all the way in.

"I know you do," Sam says, groaning roughly, his hands buried in Ryan's hair. "Just like I need to be buried in your tight hot ass."

Ryan nearly chokes right then. His muscles clench hard, sending ripples of sensation streaking through his body. With a whimper he sucks harder, bobbing his head and working to make it good for his lover.

It's so good and it would be so easy to come like this. Spill down Ryan's throat or paint his face with it. Make them both wait until later for the other. But again, it's been days, and there's no fucking way Sam's waiting any longer. He shoves down Ryan's throat once, twice and again and then pushes his boy off with a growl, "Up here. Now."

"Yes, Sir," Ryan gasps, his lips wet. He straddles his lover with a great deal more caution than usual, carefully bracing so that he won't rub against Sam's injured leg in any way. That first instant of penetration - when the thick head of Sam's cock breaches his body - wrenches a needy cry from his lips like he's gone without for years.

Fuck. Sam's cock throbs and he grips Ryan's hips in his hands, fingers pulling his cheeks apart. "You'd better not expect me to last long," he warns, resisting the urge to drive up into his boy. With his leg, it really is better if he lets Ryan do most of the work.

"Yes, Sir," Ryan repeats breathlessly. "Just-- Oh, god," he groans, sliding down on Sam's cock to take him all the way inside. "Not yet, Sir. Please!"

Sam chuckles at that, at the desperation in Ryan's voice as he watches the purest pleasure wash across his features. "I'll try and hold on," he promises, grinning. "Just for you."

"Mmm, god yes." Ryan curls his fingers into his lover's shoulders and slowly rises before taking Sam back in. His pace is nearly lazy, streaks of gold seeming to shimmer through his body. "God, you feel so damn good."

"Maybe we need to go without more often," Sam teases, trailing his fingers over where they're joined, his cock giving another rough throb.

Ryan whimpers, as much from Sam's words as from that enticing touch. "Please don't mean that," he whispers, and dips his head to kiss Sam's throat, his chin, his mouth. "Please..."

"Never," Sam promises, pushing up into Ryan. "Never. You really think I could live without this? Without being inside you. Filling you like this." _Owning you_.

"God, I hope not," Ryan murmurs with a smile. He trails his thumb over Sam's lips, then licks along the same path. "Because your boy can't live without this." 

"No?" Sam teases his fingertips around his cock, along the stretched skin right there, making room for more.

"Mmm. Well, not without a whole lot of bitching and whining, anyway," Ryan answers, then hisses in a breath at the feel of Sam's fingers _right there_. "When you're feeling all better, maybe you can try that thing again, when you fisted me and fucked me at the same time."

"I think I could be persuaded," Sam says with a grin, brushing their lips together again as he pushes his fingers deeper.

"Yeah?" Ryan's voice is weak, and his rhythm falters. "You like that idea?" he whispers, his lips warm against his sir's throat. "Fucking your boy so wide open that he screams with how much it hurts? Shoving your fist inside him and tearing him open till he bleeds?" He shudders wickedly, nearly out of control at the image he himself just painted into being.

Sam nods. "Fucking love it," he murmurs, thrusting up into Ryan, between his fingers, pleasure overriding the pain in his leg as his cock throbs and he shouts, "Now!", shoved over the edge by the fantasy and the feel of his boy's body around him.

Ryan's own cry is lost in Sam's, his head spinning as he feels that incredible hot possessive rush of his lover's come inside him. He settles heavily, still grasping at reality, when he remembers himself and shifts his weight once more. "Oh, god," he breathes, clinging tightly. "Oh, god. Sam."

Sam nods. Oh god is right. "Love you," he whispers, wrapping his arms around Ryan and hugging him close.

"Uh-huh." Managing to loosen his hold - but only barely - he rests his head on Sam's shoulder. "Yes, Sir," he whispers back. "Yes."

Sam grins. "So is that enough of a workout?" he murmurs. "I'd be prepared for a repeat this afternoon if you think it's needed."

Ryan can't help but smile back. "I'm letting you off easy, and we both know it," he replies. "But, yeah. Maybe one more time will do the trick, therapeutically-speaking."


End file.
